


Alternative multipurpose chassis

by imsfire



Series: Rebelcaptain appreciation week 2019 [4]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: AU - alternative Scarif scene finale, F/M, Gen, K-2 becoming aware of the frisson between Cassian and Jyn and being - okayish with it, K-2 being an absolute hero, K-2 saves the day, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, all the droid feels, also slightly odd drama-comedy fusion, brief mentions of Baze and Chirrut, brief mentions of other Rogue One characters, flangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 20:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18431339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imsfire/pseuds/imsfire
Summary: An alternative rescue scenario.  K-2SO gets the opportunity of a lifetime to cause mayhem while getting a group of survivors off Scarif by means of an impromptu download or two.





	Alternative multipurpose chassis

**Author's Note:**

> For Rebelcaptain Appreciation week 2019; day four prompt, Carry.

The last few days have included moments that were highly gratifying to K-2SO.  60 to 70%, even as much as 80% satisfactory in the case of one particular instance.  It is truly gratifying finally to have the use of a weapon.

He allows the less rewarding memory files to be shunted into a minor storage level.  He’d prefer not to think about Jyn Erso’s appropriation of Cassian’s second spare blaster, or her occasional rudeness to himself.  He’s definitely  going to delete the memory of assaulting a fellow KX droid earlier today, an action whose unavoidability in no way compensates for the lingering sense of self-disgust it has left in his circuits. 

Assuming he remains functional long enough to delete anything.  Sadly today is not going so well and he’s currently in a situation where the odds of any kind of survival, either corporeal or in data form, are rapidly decreasing.

He holds the door against all comers, just the same.

He has a visual uplink to the chamber on the other side.  He can see Cassian and Jyn working; can see how smoothly they operate together, but also how Cassian gives himself away with tiny micro-expressions, his focus shaken at the sounds relayed from out here where K is fighting. 

He’s taken several hits now and had to power-down a couple of non-essential subroutines and re-route other systems.  But he’s still in perfectly adequate condition to continue, and his marksmanship, now that he finally has a chance to demonstrate it, is excellent.  Targeting software functionality at 97%.

He watches Cassian and Jyn, relays information to them, continues to monitor their conditions as the firefight intensifies. 

They work well as a team, almost as well as Cassian does with K himself.  They have evolved a form of non-verbal communication that is surprisingly nuanced considering how little time they’ve been acquainted with one another.  They also have a way of smiling at one another faintly mid-task.  K hasn’t seen Cassian smile this much in a long time.  He shoots another ‘trooper.  He finds it strangely reassuring that Cassian has Jyn now.  That he is with Jyn.  That they have each other.

He puzzles at that.

-while shooting

-while taking another hit

-rerouting damaged systems once again

-simulating possible escape scenarios and hypotheses

-finding each one severely wanting in likelihood of success

-and simulating more

-diverting vital energy resources to his vocabulator to enable himself to speak

-taking another hit

-falling to his knees rerouting all power from lower limb movement to block a cascade failure in speech synthesis before he can manage to speak

-and shooting again and

-speaking

“Climb.  You can still send the plans to the fleet.”

The visual feed shows him Cassian’s sudden absolute panic, the aural relay provides his anguished voice.  No gratification at all in causing such pain to the one organic whose emotions matter to him.  But there’s only one viable hypothesis now.  K-2 commits to it.

“Locking the vault door.”

Slamming down on it with linked fists and all possible available power, smashing the mechanism irreparably.  On the other side, Cassian shouts his name again and he notes that Jyn’s expression too is horrified.  Concern for Cassian? – or even for himself?  Continually unexpected either way.

His upload spike is undamaged.  On the balance of probabilities, he has, as the organic phrase goes, nothing left to lose.  He inserts it into the appropriate port and begins a total personality matrix download into the Scarif mainframe.  38% odds that there is enough time.

In case there _isn’t_ enough time, he activates his vocabulator once more. “Goodbye.”

-while shooting with the blaster in his left hand

-downloading

-downloading

45% complete

60% complete

Another hit puts one too many crucial systems out, multiple functions go down, he recognises the first microseconds of a total cascade failure

85% complete

If Cassian manages to escape, that will be satisfactory

95% complete

If both Cassian and Jyn escape that will also be satisfactory.  It will help Cassian.

Systems failure imminent.

Download complete.

K-2SO slumps to the floor, a dead chassis

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a whole new world, multiple data ports receiving, relaying, exporting collecting collating analysing, data data data, vast internal systems and logs and the entire immensity of the Imperial Archives, file upon file enticing in the depth and richness of their contents, the Intel potential is dazzling and there’s so much redundant processing power available to him he could live here undetected for a significant amount of time, this might even be akin to what religiously-inclined organics call Heaven; there are numerous external systems linked also, either physically with upload cables or via wireless connectivity, he senses droids, ships, combat vehicles, 1,756 video feeds, 8,398 microphone uplinks; an entire central room of human data controllers with implants, all logged-in and reading information at their slow and clumsy best pace; vast arrays of sensors, activity all over the base being monitored nonstop

and him, K-2, reaching out into it all.

All of the ocular sources, hidden mikes, comm units and bugs.  All the networked computer systems across the entirety of Scarif, every chip and strand of wire, every string of coding, every mechanical system and data log, all open to his processing capabilities.

For the first time in his existence, a data range large enough genuinely to challenge him.

To enthral him.

So many possibilities.

He establishes within three hundredths of a second that he cannot disable the Shield Gate without a verbal code input from an organic.  Barely 3% likelihood of getting control over any of the organics in question.  He discards the option. 

But there are a wide variety of rebel assaults continuing, on land and in the air, and in the upper thermosphere above the deflector shield, and he can control, and is already reaching out to take hold of, other systems that will affect their outcomes in statistically-significant ways.

K begins work.

He locks doors, blocks signals, fries code to shut down power systems, comms systems, whole sectors of the land-rail transport grid.  Spikes the wireless signal to the three AT-ACTs advancing on LPs 8 and 9 and sets them lumbering into one another aimlessly.  Scrambles systems into feedback loops, misdirects responses, inserts nonsense code strings.  Creates chaos. 

He’s had power before, on a small and immediate scale, was designed to represent power as a droid with a tall strong chassis built to intimidate.  But never anything like this.  He can monitor every data stream on the base and play with them all at will.

He’d located the visual feeds from the CCTV covering the interior of the data vault within five seconds of download completion and had been gratified to see that Cassian and Jyn were alive and climbing. Taking his advice.  Both still alive.  And the data file disc swings jauntily at Jyn Erso’s hip.  As they pass one of the cameras he sees a familiar grim smile on Cassian’s face. 

He’s proud of them.  They’re nearing the top. 

Easy to do what he can centrally to help them.  He jams open the ventilator shutter at the top of the tower to ensure they can make a swift and safe exit onto the upper platform.  Realigns the signalling array for optimum broadcast effectiveness. 

A nearby movement nudges his attention as one of the tower’s two elevators climbs towards a maintenance hatch that can open to the inside of the vault.  The visual feed from within the lift capsule shows him an Imperial officer in white exhibiting behaviours consonant with extreme anger, and two death-troopers.  0% likelihood that their presence will be beneficial to Cassian and Jyn’s mission or their continued wellbeing.  K halts the elevator between floors and jams the controls. 

Watches with interest as the officer goes into a hysterical rage, pounding the buttons on the panel and spitting expletives.  Pathetic organic inefficiency, to expend so much energy on the expression of personal emotion.  The ‘troopers stand impassive.  It would appear they have witnessed such behaviours on more than one occasion in the past.  Yet they do nothing to dissuade the officer, much less to remedy their situation.  Truly pathetic.

On another visual feed he sees Jyn emerge onto the top of the tower, closely followed by Cassian.  Both still alive, unhurt, and fully focussed on the mission.  Highly satisfactory.  He begins scanning for a suitable ship to remove them.

The nearest vessel is a Delta class T-3c shuttle, actually docked on the Citadel Tower itself near the main comms centre.  But it’s a ship Cassian has never flown.  It’s easy to locate a training manual in the archive, however they will require extraction within fifteen minutes at most and not even a human of Cassian’s above-average intelligence and adaptability can be expected to learn a ship’s systems within the necessary timescale.  Besides, there are a number of Alliance fighters still active on the ground, including some six or seven of the _Rogue One_ crew.  Once Cassian and Jyn are safe it will be both desirable and achievable to ensure the survival of as many other Alliance personnel as possible.  An external feed from one of the land-rail transit tubes shows a downed pilot in rebel orange, wading ashore trailing a parachute, and the two Jedhan Guardians a little further off taking shelter along with Sgt Melshi and Lt Sefla.  K-2 discards the option of the sleek little Sienar Systems Delta-class.  Too small for the necessary evacuation, and ill-equipped for the possibility of injured.

Next moment he observes a new uplink coming online.   _Rogue One_ herself is now connected to the mainframe.  Bodhi Rook has been successful.  An efficient and courageous little organic, for all his personal uncertainty.  Commendable.   

It would be inefficient not to make use of the best available resource.  K shoots out a thread of consciousness into the on-board systems.  Just to keep an eye on things there.

It really is highly rewarding to be carried like this within an entire mainframe.  His capabilities for once are enhanced by the means at his disposal instead of limited by them.  A shame this alternative multipurpose chassis arrangement isn’t portable.

In the jammed transit pods, ‘troopers are standing passively waiting for transportation to resume.  In the main comms hub of Scarif base the shouting goes on and tech support attempts to wrangle his assorted system rewrites and reroutes.  He establishes new work-arounds, blocking them.  He just needs to buy a little more time.

On board _Rogue One_ , Rook is talking to the rebel fleet in orbit. 

On the beaches, the rebel soldiers and the Jedhans are holed up in small groups, still fighting.

On the Tower platform, Jyn is uploading the data disc into the reader while Cassian sets signal coordinates and inputs ID codes to ensure the _Profundity_ above them will correctly identify their message when it comes through. 

And in the main comms centre deep within the base technicians shout in horror and point as their screens show explosive destruction on the boundary of the thermosphere and exosphere and the Shield Gate is

-oh good

-moreover excellent

-also entirely gratifying and satisfactory

The screens in the comms centre show the Shield Gate collapsing, its fabric crushed under the impact of two colliding Star Destroyers.  The planetary deflector shield itself fizzles out.  Total systems failure.

On the Tower, Cassian’s jaw tightens for a moment as Jyn presses the lever to transmit.

The aural warning signal comes on. “Transmitting.  Transmitting.” 

-yes, most satisfactory

Jyn stumbles back, coming up against Cassian.  They stand side by side.  Both panting.  Both starting to smile.  Their hands entwine.

“Transmission complete.”

-100% satisfactory.  Mission completed.

Cassian and Jyn embrace.

And kiss.

-oh

-well that’s new

-but not entirely unexpected

Still kissing. 

-oh well

K-2 despatches the Tower’s second elevator to the top of the tower quickly to collect them.  When they finish kissing.  

He toys with disconnecting the failsafe on the other elevator capsule and letting it drop with the frothing officer inside.  He remembers being under the command of men like that.  Even their own troops disliking them.  Getting rid of him would mean one less nasty little Imperial for Cassian to have to deal with.

Cassian _and_ Jyn, rather.  It would seem there is a significant level of bonding going on between them.

But there isn’t enough time.  New signals are flashing in the main hub, new images appear on the visual feeds.  The Imperial fleet is here, and so is the Death Star.

100% not satisfactory.

Gratifying though it is to be free within this network and wreak whatever havoc he pleases, K-2 doesn’t want to be obliterated by that thing.  He sends a loud audio signal from the elevator to get Cassian and Jyn’s attention away from their protracted embrace and then proceeds to download himself for a second time, into the shipboard computer system of _Rogue One_.

-downloading

-downloading

-downloading

-downloading

Download complete.

Only three on-board cameras here, instead of the thousands of visual inputs he’s had while he occupied the Scarif Base mainframe.  One external feed, which currently shows an Imperial transport not 100 feet away, disgorging troops.  Internal feed 1 shows the cockpit is empty; feed 2 shows Bodhi Rook and Corporal Tonc are in the upper cargo hold, staring out of the open hatch at the approaching forces.  Audio picks up Bodhi’s voice; a low-grade curse, and a rattle as Tonc reloads his weapon. 

On the external camera K sees a man swing back an arm to throw a thermal detonator.  He starts to close the ship’s ramp to block it.  Too late.  The grenade lands inside with a clatter.  Bodhi Rook swears again.  The camera feed shows him wide-eyed as he grabs it up and hurls it back out of the half-open hatch into the thick of the enemy troops.  Then is thrown bodily, flat on the deck by the blast.  Still alive, shouting more curses.  The hatch continues to close and the instant it’s shut K-2 initiates the launch sequence. 

86% chance that Cassian and Jyn are in the elevator and descending by now.  He needs to reach them at the foot of the Tower, and get as many others as he can, and get out.

Bodhi scrambles to his feet.  Heart rate elevated, eyes wide with shock, shouting.  His choice of language now the relatively inoffensive “Krif, krif, krif!”  A few superficial facial scratches but no major injuries.  He lurches and almost falls as K raises the landing gear; catches his balance again, makes his way to the companionway and hauls himself up into the flight deck. “What the krif, no, no no no we can’t take off –“

The ship takes off.

Flying a vessel that is also one’s own body is – an interesting sensation.  Wholly unlike walking.  Different too to flying a ship from the pilot’s or co-pilot’s position.   I must tell Cassian about this, he will also find it fascinating.

Well.  Get him safely off-planet first.  Him and Jyn Erso.  She is good for Cassian.  And it will be gratifying to have her grateful to me.

He banks hard to port, crashing through the nearest belt of palm trees.  Takes control of the wing-mounted cannon to send a long stream of blaster-fire into an approaching party of Stormtroopers. 

100% satisfactory. 

The earliest Cassian and Jyn will be at the foot of the Tower is approximately three minutes from now.  Bodhi and Tonc are both shouting in panic and confusion, and Bodhi is making frustrated attempts to take control of the ship’s steering.  Commendable clear-headedness and resolve, but countermanding his efforts is a distraction.  It would appear it will be beneficial to mission parameters to persuade him to stop. 

But there’s no vocabulator on board. 

As a ship, he’s mobile and rational and still possesses a respectable degree of processing power; he can fly, he can rescue his organic counterparts, and other Alliance personnel and aligned individuals, he can escape Scarif’s gravity and achieve a transition into hyperspace.  But he can’t talk.

Still flying.  He begins scanning through the database of recorded on-board warnings.  Only 40% odds at best that he can locate any kind of useful message, but this is all he has to work with.  He remembers innumerable occasions when taking a risk with odds worse than that has nonetheless been successful. 

Ignores the fact this is of course a self-selecting data range, since any instance when he didn’t survive the odds would have meant not being present here anyway.

A useful message. “Warning!  Attention all crew-members!”  A female-identifying timbre of voice and a sugary Coruscant accent.  Oh well.  “Fasten seatbelts.  Turbulence ahead.”

“Fucking fuck, what the fuck?” says Cpl Tonc.  Succinct as ever.

K-2’s external sensors and the exterior camera feed show him the two other Jedhans and several more of the _Rogue One_ crew are still holding their own in the shelter of one of the transit bunkers.  Chirrut Imwe appears to be injured, as does Sgt Melshi.  A brief scan of the foot of the Citadel Tower shows the elevator door at the base is still closed.  Cassian and Jyn haven’t yet reached ground level.

He refuses to allow himself to construct simulations of what he will do if they haven’t taken the lift down.  There’s a 68% chance that the pleasurable hormonal rush of mission success, plus that deriving from kissing an attractive person, will have repressed Cassian’s periodic death-wish enough that he will have chosen the avenue most likely to lead to escape.  K has to go with those odds.  But meanwhile –

“Co-ordinates received.  Brace for impact.  Landing approach vectors activated.”

“What the fuck, we’re landing again? - no, shit, shit shit! –“

K executes his first landing as a ship.  Embarrassingly poor in technical terms but the hull’s still intact.  He opens the hatch as his camera feed picks up Baze Malbus carrying his counterpart across the sand, and Melshi and Sefla assisting one another towards the ship.  The unidentified Alliance pilot and two other soldiers run beside them, shooting wildly to give covering fire.  

As soon as all seven have boots on deck K takes off again. 

Voices from the cargo hold, voices shouting as he steers for the Tower.  “What the krif’s going on?”

“No fucking idea, ship’s flying its karking self.”

“Never mind that, is there a med-kit on board?”

“I am one with the Force, the Force is with me.”

“Yes, Chirrut, we know.  Is there a bloody med-kit on this bloody ship?”

“Fuck!  **Fuck**!”

K-2 swings his new chassis in to land again, at the foot of the tower, just as the door of the elevator slides open.  Cassian and Jyn emerge, blasters up.  He wonders if they spent any more time kissing as the lift descended.  They seem ready for action now, anyway.  He opens the hatch and ramp on the highly satisfactory sight of Jyn gaping in surprise at his – the ship’s – presence, and Cassian running forward, already in command of the situation.

“Thank the Force, Bodhi, good move deciding to come for us.” Cassian is looking to left and right, scanning the horizon, touching Jyn’s arm to steady her as she stumbles climbing into the hold.  He sees troops approaching at the same moment K’s external camera picks them up; raises his single blaster bravely if rather pointlessly.

K activates the forward cannon again and mows them down.

“Not my decision,” Bodhi Rook is saying. “Fucking ship’s gone haywire.  Flying itself.”

K speeds up his search of the recorded messages.  There has to be _something_ else useful here.  He shuts the hatch, pulls up the ramp, engages the launch sequence again.

“What the hells?” says Cassian.  “Shit,” says Jyn.

K essays “Attention please!” but it barely seems to register except with Bodhi who adds grimly “And it’s broadcasting random messages on the PA.”

“Told us to fasten our fucking seatbelts just now,” says Tonc.

“Affirmative.  Affirmative.” K is flying and shooting and behind him the entire upper third of the Citadel Tower has just been sheared off by a blast from the Death Star.  He logs data on the nature of the weapon and the reaction at the blast site, water and sea-bed instantly vaporised, a blast wave approaching at high speed.  No horizon.  He searches for further warning messages.  Someone surely must realise what’s going on! “The ship is under attack.  Standby to repel boarders.”

Perhaps not the best choice of words but it got their attention again. “Captain to the flight deck.  Brace for impact.”

No time to wait for them to pick up.  Even Cassian is being dishearteningly slow about this.  Perhaps from shock, or relief at the mission accomplished; perhaps from concern for the other team members surrounding him.  Or perhaps he is distracted by the fact Jyn has begun to cry and is holding him and pressing her face into his shirt.

K would have placed the odds of ever seeing her cry other than in anger at a low 12%.  Continually unexpected indeed.

No time for that.  He has a blast wave to outrun.  It is deeply ungratifying to have to leave knowing there may still be further Alliance personnel on the ground.  Another memory he will delete if he’s able to.  But those on board must be saved.  He ramps all available power into the engines.  It’s unfortunate that _Rogue One_ doesn’t have the hyperdrive modifications Cassian had installed on their old U-wing.  But at least the jump coordinates for the hyperspace lane back to the Yavin system are a relatively simple calculation. 

K feels himself break atmo – another entirely fascinating sensation although he lacks data to calculate how long it may be before he can describe any of this to Cassian - and flips the lever to make the jump as soon as they are clear.

“Med-kits are available in the starboard locker,” he broadcasts to the main cargo deck.  Finally, a genuinely relevant message in the file of standard announcements.  He repeats it; sets an adjacent light flashing to indicate the locker in question. “Med-kits are available in the starboard locker.”

The locker is outside the visual field of camera 2 but he feels the door ripped open 1.3 seconds later.

Boots on the companionway, internal sensors registering a distinctive pattern of pressure and movement he immediately identifies as Cassian.  Less familiar patterns follow but it takes only a fraction more time to match gait to individual and confirm as each one emerges into the visual field of Internal feed 1; Jyn, Bodhi, Sefla, Tonc.

Cassian is muttering “¡Madre que me parió! ¿Qué le pasa a esta mierda?” as Bodhi and he climb into the pilot and co-pilot seats.  They stare at the controls and one another for a moment and begin trying to assume control of the ship.

There’s a 56% probability that by now it would be safe to allow them to do so.  They are both capable pilots and unlikely to cause a crash or take decisions detrimental to the well-being of those on board.  But since his own existence is at stake and he cannot yet communicate that fact, K would like the odds a little higher than this.  It remains profoundly unsatisfactory that not one of the organics on board is aware of his presence.  Granted, Baze Malbus is occupied in the cargo hold with attending to the medical needs of the injured.  But no-one else seems to have a clue.

“Access violation,” he tells them.  Cycling systems to block each attempt to log-in. “Access violation.  Warning, this shuttle is reversing.”

“¡Carajo, no!  No, no, no!” Cassian redoubles his efforts.  He’s being remarkably slow on the uptake in other ways (it has to be down to stress, K cannot rationally blame it on Jyn and the kissing since measuring by all normal parameters these were clearly beneficial).  But his efficiency at trying to break into the locked ship’s systems is at an alarmingly high level of functionality.   

“Access denied.  Life support at full.  Weapons systems offline.  All crew members accounted for.” If K were an organic, there’s a 76% probability that by now he would be panicking slightly. “Access denied.” The fixedly calm tone of the recorded voice is increasingly frustrating. “All droids accounted for.  Attention please, this is your pilot speaking.”

“Fuck, guys,” says Tonc from the companionway “It’s like it’s trying to talk to you.”

K ramps up the volume to the full. “Thank you for your compliance.  Thank you for your compliance.” He would scream it if he could.  _Finally_ , someone gets it.  Thank you Corporal Tonc!

“Cassian,” Jyn says.  She’s moved up to stand behind him, her hands on his shoulders.  She appears calm again after her momentary systems breakdown.  Commendable. “Where is it taking us?”

“Back to base.  It’s literally reversed the jump coordinates and recalculated for the time differential.  Jyn, I’ve never seen anything like this.  It’s as if the ship’s become sentient.”

“Fuck it, stop blocking me!” snaps Bodhi, flinging his hands in the air. “I did not ask for a sentient ship!”

“All systems are AOK,” K says.  He is experiencing something that must be very akin to the organic emotion of hope.  Neither Cassian nor Bodhi is trying to hack into him momentarily.  He has a few seconds at least before either of them starts again. 

He finds a sub-routine of the standard set of pre-take-off check messages and pounces on it. “Fuel levels at 80%.  At 90%.  At 100%.  At 35%.  At 45%.  At 100%.” Cassian blinks. “All systems are AOK.  All crew members and droids accounted for.  At 50%. At 75%.  At 90%.”

Down below, looking up from where Chirrut Imwë is slowly sipping from a water bottle, Baze Malbus growls “It’s as bad as listening to your old droid, Captain” and Chirrut chuckles and then winces and places a hand to his side. 

And Cassian, finally, gets it. 

His heart rate soars, breathing becomes faster, perspiration rates increase, his mouth drops open and exposed areas of skin become markedly paler.  After an interval of almost three painfully-long seconds he says the one word “Kay” and begins to cry.

“Affirmative.  Affirmative.  Affirmative.” Relief floods through K’s unfamiliar circuits, coupled with a singular disappointment at having had to cause further shock and distress to his preferred human.

The others on the flight deck are all staring at Cassian as he leans forward and sobs aloud into the flight controls.  “What?” says Bodhi.  “Krif, did something happen to K-2?”

“Affirmative,” says K, offended.  Really, however preoccupied the pilot may have been, it’s not at all gratifying that he hadn’t even noticed until now.

“Kay?” says Jyn. “Oh, sweet Force alive, _Kay? **Really**_?  He sliced the mainframe?!?”

She wraps both arms around Cassian from behind and buries her face in his neck with an unsettling choking sound that K calculates is 86% likely to be  gladness.

Cassian straightens.  He’s shaking; he places one hand over hers, rests the other one on K’s controls.  There are tears streaming down his face. “Is it really you?  I’m not going crazy?”

“Affirmative.  All crew members and droids accounted for.  All systems are AOK.  This is your pilot speaking.  At 100%.”

The blue light of hyperspace goes on, and the fascinating accompanying impressions he’s receiving via the exterior sensors also go on; and inside the hull his human counterparts are holding one another and laughing and shedding tears.  Clearly all in shock.  Not without good reason.  Mission successful, evac successful, Cassian Andor alive and well and other members of the team also alive including his unexpected preferred bonding companion. 

Communications are - challenging but achievable. 

New alternative multipurpose chassis situation is also challenging, but adequate for the time being. 

They can deal with everything else, now they have the time.

Generally satisfactory outcome by all standard measurable parameters.

K-2SO heads for home.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks once again to the wonderful @dasakuryo for their help with Cassian's space-Spanish!


End file.
